


untitled

by woollen_pharaohs



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Black Comedy, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, I think?, M/M, Porn With Plot, hell AU, hell au where you look like how you died, malvo is some kind of awarded demon bc he's a pro at being evil in life and in death, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:51:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woollen_pharaohs/pseuds/woollen_pharaohs
Summary: Hell isn’t all too bad. Sure, Lester gets tortured for most of the day but it’s not like Lorne has nothing to do in Hell until Lester’s free four hours stars, and in that time, they can do whatever they want. And they always do what Lorne wants. Except this time Lester’s making him go to this stupid dinner party when he could be out there making his victims know that their Hell hasn’t even begun before Lorne Malvo has made a special appearance.“No, no,” Lester says when Lorne tries to convince him to reconsider. A firm tilt of the head, a rapid blink. “We always do what you want to do Malvo. Please, just once let’s go to a nice dinner and meet new people. Aren’t you sick of killing everyone you see?”“Not really.”They stare at each other. Lorne holds onto a sly smile as he watches Lester squint, lips pursed. Lester shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes twitching. All Lester really has to do to get his way is to say so, but like always, Lorne likes to mess with Lester. It’s more fun that way.Lorne slings an arm around Lester’s waist and says, “Come on, I heard Ted Bundy is on the guest list. Boy would I like to have a chat with that guy.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> i s2g the older i get the weirder shit i write. anyway, here's these fuckers being assholes in hell. Enjoy Malvo actually worshipping Lester more than the devil himself. Please leave a comment they make me feel better about why i even write these weird AUs.

Lorne and Lester walk up the spiky slope to Lucifer’s Stomach. Large windows look into a full restaurant, the decor all dark red neon, and shadows taking up the void. Lorne has to laugh at how hard the place is trying to be hip. Reminds him of the summer in 2001 where he and this lanky young man coked up on speed had driven into Las Vegas with the heat of the sun rolling off the blackening desert and the blood of sixteen professors dripping through the neon tubing, made the light dull and uninviting to those except the vampires. He hadn’t meant to kill them, really. A bunch of professors on a work retreat, team building and conflict resolution, that kind of thing. The department had merged the mathematics with the science department, cost reduction see, and well, this kid was more high on the idea of blackmailing the head of the department for the most the head of a university department could earn, rather than the bag of speed he’d been snorting for three days straight. Lorne knew it was risky bringing the kid along and even though this kid sucked dick like his lips were woven with all things good and sweet, like cherries and duck feathers and sugar and spice, Lorne knew what he had to do when the kid barged in on a group activity with the professors. They were all in a circle like they were about to give thanks or else about to circle fuck each other, as if they weren’t already doing that in one way or another, but this kid, he charges into the middle and starts blowing their whole damn cover by running off his mouth boasting about how fat his pockets were going to get and Lorne had no choice really. Not all of them went to heaven. He sees a handful of the sixteen, the filthy ones, around at the hellfire pits every so often. Has a bag of pretzels and munches on them as he watches these shmucks throw themselves into the bottomless pit. The real time view of the stages of grief is amusing until the suckers get to acceptance because after that it’s just hours and hours of boredom until the Devil zaps their bodies back to their torture room to start the new day afresh.

Lester never really likes him going down there and Lorne supposes he doesn’t go down to the hellfire pits so often anymore anyway not so much because of Lester’s disapproval but because it reminds him so much of that lanky kid and all the other guys who he tried to mingle with but who only ended up dying or running away or setting up a bear trap to crunch around his fucking leg. And he supposes he hasn’t thought about his human life on Earth so much at all until looking at these damned red neon lights in this faux fancy restaurant on the underside of Hell itself and it reminds him of what Lester did. Of what Lester did to him. As if walking around with his leg torn to pieces and a fucking pathetic piece of wood splinted against his calf isn’t enough to keep him remembering what that good for nothing fuck did and got him fucking killed.

For a while there it was a good damned reminder. Got him through every day with vengeance on his mind. Not that Hell was ever too bad for him really. The routine got mundane real quick. When the core of the hellfire first balls against the horizon, the day begins. The first 20 hours – and he knows it’s 20 because the Devil had the audacity to keep him under for 23 hours, 59 minutes and 57 seconds, that’s 3 seconds of unnerved bliss, because hell, no one challenges the Devil even though they _both_ know Lorne’s evil to the bone, too evil to put up with torture that only gets his mind busy. So just to spite the lord almighty, he had counted every second, every minute, and added it up and got his total. 20 hours of straight up torture.

The torture is held in a room, not a physical one, mind you, more like a pocket of space between an infinite amount of dimensions contained within the gates of Hell. Hell’s a pretty damned full place brimming with all kinds of bad, and yet there’s space enough for every kind of criminal facing 20 hours of their own personal hell. For Lorne it was having to go through a cover for a job for _too_ long. Months and years too long of keeping up a charade that makes him want to stab every dental patient or every sinner who comes in to confess more than just simply waiting for the game to pay off. Sure, the game’s fun at the start, setting up a new identity, tricking everyone around him, but as time wears on, the clinching day further and further away… It was meant to make him on edge but instead it made him bored. And when he got bored he got to reflecting on himself and on his body and how he’s got two bullet holes in his face and no one around him in this fake dream gives a god damned shit about it. And how he walks around with a horrid limp and endless blood drips from his leg and no one… but then there’s someone. There’s someone biting on his leg and aiming a gun at him and throwing glass awards at the back of his head and it’s Lester he won’t ever forget. He doesn’t care about the grimy Grimly kid, he ain’t out to get a pathetic mailman. That’s not the one who betrayed him. The Devil couldn’t take how Lorne grinned that bloody sick grin the whole 20 hours, thinking about all the different ways he’s going to fuck Lester up the moment he joins him in Hell.

As soon as his time was up, he’d get out and look for Lester. Everyone starts as scum and as scum you’ve got nothing to your name and no one to help him. He didn’t even have the intel on whether or not the fucker was alive or dead, miraculously in heaven or deservedly in hell. He’d finish up with the torture and he’d get out on the hellscape looking for that fool. Turning over every rock and every severed limb until he found signs of that fucker. The Devil extended his torture time, cut out his leisure time because he was ‘doing it wrong’ apparently. Well, he sent the words right back to the Devil himself because clearly the almighty hadn’t the faintest idea how to make Lorne Malvo beg for the torture to stop like he’s meant to.

That’s how he got his promotion.

Free reign, is what that meant. Or otherwise known as hell’s heaven. He could walk around and visit other people’s torture rooms, see what made their stomachs turn inside out either figuratively or literally, and it meant he could do whatever he wanted. He could mess with their torture, he could kill the same person a million different ways for eternity. He could cross the dusty wasteland and find old flames, rip their heads off and hold their eyes in his teeth. He could find anyone so long as they went to Hell.

And knowing Lester, there was no doubt he’d end up the same place.

Lester’s torture room was… let’s just say unfortunate. Dreary time with his first wife being berated over and over and Lester’s stuck in his old self who would just succumb to the onslaught. After some time – and yeah, Lorne stuck around to watch this shit – the torture routine changed to the fear of being chased. That’s when it got juicy. Seeing shadowy reflections of himself chasing Lester. Yeah, that was some good stuff.

Lorne himself didn’t encounter Lester for a good while. Wanted to wait until the nightmare was at its peak. Then when Lester would wake up in sweats, relieved that the torture had ended and his free time to sit in some dingy diner getting drunk on the Devil’s spirits and watching the nastiest of stripper displays, instead the first thing Lester saw was Lorne standing there. A dream within a reality. Nowhere to run.

“Is this what you want?”

The metal of his silencer glinting in the light from the licking fires.

“Yes, or no.”

“Yes.”

Lorne toes his good foot against the glass door and pushes it open for Lester.

“Let’s go in, then, shall we?” Lorne encourages with lidded eyes.

They may spend most of their time fucking around with sinners and sinning themselves, but all Lester ever has to do to get his way is to say so and Lorne’s only option is to oblige.

Lester frowns, nods, and dips underneath Lorne’s outstretched arm to enter the restaurant. Lorne follows and the glass door vacuum shuts behind him. Lester’s gazing around the restaurant, looking for the Devil knows what, a table or a menu or trying to avert his eyes from the many monstrosities of creatures dining at this ridiculous restaurant.

Presently, a woman rushes over to them with menus spilling out from her armful. She skids to a stop before them, her five breasts jiggling freely and Lorne laughs inwardly as Lester’s eyes dart straight to the ceiling.

“Welcome to Lucifer’s Stomach, a table for two?” She says, then glances at Lester and says, “Oh, _scum_? You want to tie him up in the pet yard?”

Lester’s eyes go wide.

“He’s a cute one, inhe? I have one a bit older than your fella at home, didn’t bring him tonight. Usually I keep him tied up in the pet yard but John Wayne Gacy’s pet ripped into him and I’m waiting for my scum to reset now. Don’t you love ruining them fresh?  Jeez Louise, I’ll tell you, he’ll take liquid acid down his ears any day.”

“Ears?!” Lester squeals, still trying to stare at anything dark and featureless.

Malvo puts on his fake friendly voice, eyeing Lester as he speaks. “Mmm, yeah, my guy, I got him because he’s so small, see? Can fit him in cramped spaces, claustrophobic like,” he pokes his tongue against the side of his cheek each time he pauses, gives Lester the most lecherous looks, “I make him get on his knees and get him to crawl through a short sewer – short in height mind you – and down these tunnels I run the blood and guts and shit from his dead wives. The trick is to make the end appear so close and yet so far,” he chuckles, watching the hair on Lester’s head move the further Lester lifts his brows, “Oh yeah, the step out is his favourite part, you know, because he thinks it’s the end? He gets one small hand on the step out of the blood bath and oop! The step falls away and he submerges himself in the thick remains of women who never truly loved him. _My_ favourite part is when he slips and he opens his mouth sometimes, you know in surprise, and just gets it all in there and he can’t do anything to get the taste out. Oh, it’s great fun.”

The woman nods grinning, “Sounds it. Might try that one out with my pet. Where’s that at now?”

Lorne isn’t listening. His eyes are focused on how uncomfortable Lester looks, hairs standing on end, eyes glaring into the shadows and his arms balled and feet apart like he’s a stick figure drawn by some artless kid.

“There’s only so long you can drag it on, you know, so I give him a bit of comfort to revitalise the stamina. Makes him last longer for the next round – hot tip. So I wash him off with a cold hose and well, you’ve seen him, he’s already freezing so really a scalding hot hose works better, gets him all red in the face. And then that’s it for comfort, really. No one’s here for that. So I get him on his knees again-“

“Malvo,” Lester squeaks.

Lorne drops his friendly voice and speaks low and husky.

“And see, I prefer the cold water because that way I can see when his hands and knees turn red from the pressure against the hot ground. Every now and again I give him a little kiss, just so he knows the world’s not all too bad, there’s hope still, that really makes him last through the torture. Nothing like your scum fainting halfway through, that’s never any fun. So I’ve got the cold air still steaming off his naked body, and then I get behind him-“

Lester clears his throat, “ _Malvo_.”

Lorne closes his eyes, and slowly opens them again. He turns to the woman, a crowbar corkscrewed through one ear and out through the other, and he forces his dark demeanour to vanish.

“Well, the end of that story is for another time. We actually have a booking under my name. Lorne Malvo.”

The hostess blinks, then drops all the menus on the ground as she grabs her guest list. She runs a half finger down the page, “Malvo, for two at the Deadly Demon’s table…” she glances over her shoulder and turns back with a grin, “I don’t remember scum being a part of the specials today. Aren’t we lucky?”

“He’s not on the menu,” Lorne gives the hostess a dead look, “Are we going to have a problem?”

He’s sure she must see his powerful aura because she backs down, starts to show them the way to their reserved seating at the biggest table in the room.

As they walk together, Lorne hugs Lester from the side tight, feels the man breathing heavy, and he tells him, “You still want this?”

Lester swallows, “Yeah, I think so.”

“Then don’t leave my sight, Lester Nygaard, unless you want to live weeks as tiny pieces inside a demon’s stomach. I’m telling you it’s only weeks but it’s going to feel like an eternity.”

Lester swallows, but nods.

They reach the twelve seated table, two left reserved with a little card soaked in blood resting on top of the plates. Fiery letters spell out Lorne’s full name, and the card on the plate beside his spells ‘Guest’. Lorne pulls out Lester’s seat for him, makes sure Lester’s comfortable before taking his own seat.

A demon who looks like a hot pink version of the Alien asks obnoxiously loud, “Why’s he looking at us like that?”

A demon who looks identical to Abraham Lincoln, hat and monocle too, replies, “Ted, he’s _scum_ , can’t you tell?”

The ability to change one’s appearance is one of the Demons’ many perks. The more evil you were in your human life, the more freedom you have in changing your appearance. Lorne could make himself imitate the comic version of the Devil, all red and with a spiky red tail, if he really wanted. He can even make himself look regular, minus the bullet holes, but he keeps the wounds to serve as a reminder of why he needs to punish Lester, only as time as passed his leg has grown healthier and healthier just so he can bend his knee without pain because sometimes all he wants is the pleasure of fucking Lester like a dog and not having to reattach his leg at the end of it.

Ted’s tentacles start to coil across the tabletop toward Lester, “Well, he _smells_ delicious.”

Lorne glances at the tentacles and grabs Lester’s shoulder, angles Lester toward him in his chair and fusses with him. Touches his forehead, feels for a fever, plays with is hair, runs his hands down Lester’s neck and straightens the collar of Lester’s dress shirt, then takes Lester’s left hand in his right and holds it firmly on top of the table. He ends with caressing the top of Lester’s hand. Lester’s cheeks have gone redder than normal and yeah, it’s totally over the top but it’s all part of the charade. He has to show his possessiveness over Lester, make his mark so that every hungry Demon on this table knows that this scum is _his_ scum. No one can touch him but Lorne Malvo.

“So,” the seated opposite them starts, “how did you two meet? Did you know each other from above?”

Lorne presses a soft kiss to the top of Lester’s hand, keeping his eyes trained on Lester’s, then after a while of not answering the demon, he tears his eyes away from Lester and looks into the black beads of the oversized lizard opposite him.

“It is _such_ a gold story,” Lorne begins with a sweet voice, “I’ll tell you, it has to be one of my favourite stories.”

Lester bites his lip, a frown creased permanently over his brow and Lorne can tell he’s trying so hard not to look up from his plate but there’s those silvery eyes rolling to one side, periphery vision and all.

“So I happened to meet Lester in Las Vegas while I was out with my wife and a good patient of mine and his wife. Lester would _not_ leave me alone, he was just so damned interested in me, I thought it was quite amusing,” he sends Lester a devilish smile, “he followed me to the elevator and if I wasn’t going to do it then I was going to do it a couple of months down the track anyway. Lester coming in just sped things up a bit. So I shot my wife and two friends and Lester here was meant to help me drag these three idiots into a dumpster but instead he hits me in the back of the head with a salesman ward that he had just so proudly won-“

“ _Top_ salesman,” Lester butts in, “It was a _top_ salesman award, not just any regul- no why are you telling this story? This isn’t the – you’re telling them how you –“

“Shh, I am. It’s more interesting than how we met,” Lorne interrupts before Lester ruins the story, “So anyway, he leaves the award funnily enough. And I know how _much_ it means to him, so I have to return it. That’s what friends do, right? So I drive _all_ the way from Vegas to Bimidji, and I can’t fucking find the guy. I knew he flew so he had to have arrived before me, but so much has changed in Bimidji since I last killed somebody there so I didn’t know where to find him. Turned out his name was written on top of his store, like he wanted me to find him.

“Fancy place, really sunk a lot of money into making it look like a legitimate money making business. Smart guy. Anyway, looks like he’s about to rob his own safe and flee and I have to give him back his award before he goes anywhere. So I go up to him and I shoot him in the head, but when I turn over the body it’s not Lester, it’s his second wife. By the devil, he had me fooled! So I go out, I have a cigarette, and –“

Abraham Lincoln moans, “ _Cigarettes_ , I miss cigarettes.”

“Just ask for it,” Ted Bundy says, and suddenly a fat cigar appears in his monstrous mouth.

“No, no, it’s the risk that I miss,” Abraham explains, “There’s no point in smoking in hell because I’m already dead. There’s no risk in that.”

“Shut up, there’s a scum in your presence, can’t let them know it’s not real –“ Then, this literal blue slime ball turns to Lorne and says, “You _are_ going to reset him come morning, right?”

“As the Devil commands,” Lorne replies blankly.

Lorne catches a brief tremor in Lester’s mouth and he wonders how Lester can think after all this time that he would really force Lester to reset, after all they’ve gone through since they found each other in this hellscape.

Waiters begin to bring around the banquet food, spooning absurd delicacies onto each guest’s plates and displaying the wholes on golden trays ribbed with red neon. The guests begin to dine in, and Lorne can tell Lester’s hunger is getting the best of him even amongst the rest of the demons gobbling down their meals because Lester’s as ravenous as the monsters.

Between slurping down her meal, the lizard presses on, “So what happened? After you shot your scum’s wife?”

“Well,” Lorne turns his eyes from Lester back to the reptile, “After a bit of detective work I found out where Lester’s new home was, and so I drive up there in a fake FBI car and scare the fuck out of these fake FBI agents. Easy kills, honestly. Pointless. And then I’m walking around Lester’s house –“ he turns to Lester suddenly, “it’s too white.”

“Why is it so god damned white in your house? Not a spot of colour. What, are you worried that the red’s going to remind you of spilt blood?”

“No, I just, what?” Lester stammers, “ _Too white_? L-Linda picked the décor I didn’t… I thought it was nice! I don’t know.”

“Then what happened?” the lizard insists.

Lorne returns to looking the lizard in the eye, “I go up the stairs because I’m hearing Lester’s frantic voice. I think, _yes, I’ve got him_. He’s on the phone or something and I’m walking around his bed. There’s clothes strewn all over the place, you know how it is, and then _SLAM_! By the Devil, you planted that trap well.”

Lorne grips Lester’s shoulder firmly.

“A trap?” The lizard questions.

“A bear trap. A good, big one,” Lorne says, still looking at Lester, “How on Earth did you set it up all by yourself? I’m impressed to this day,” he faces the lizard again, “So anyway, the bear trap has damn near torn through my leg. I can’t fight him like this. If I try and shoot him down, I’m going to be on the losing end. So I retreat but I leave him some breadcrumbs, you know. Blood trails. Get him to follow. Except, _he doesn’t_. And instead I get shot three times by a mailman.”

The lizard barks out a slimy kind of laugh.

“Oh but I’m not down yet! I’ve got a grin left in me,” Lorne flashes the blood on his teeth through his grin, “And the mailman, he shoots me twice in the face and here I am. Funny thing is, this mailman was ex-cop, and his wife had been on my case since day one. Now, _she_ should’ve been the one to shoot me, if anyone. I look up every so often and I see how jealous she is of him, and how no one has a nice thing to say about Lester here.” Lorne laughs, “It’s really great. I do wish I had been the one to kill Lester though, that’s my only Earthly regret.”

“Oh that’s so sweet,” the lizard coos, then continues to slurp pitch black noodles down its scaly throat.

“I think so,” Lorne agrees.

He reverts his gaze to Lester. He watches the man slowly eating his meal, watches the way he munches on each bite and swirls it around in his mouth like he’s eating something like chewing tobacco rather than the most flavoursome meal he could ever imagine. Maybe it tastes different for scum. Lorne wouldn’t know. Scum aren’t normally allowed in places like these unless they’re on the menu and Lorne never had interest in getting in on the real bad books of any of the Demons during his free time before he got promoted himself. Maybe it’s about time Lorne got the Devil to promote Lester, let him have some fun, he’ll bet an eternity in hell that Lester’s pride will make him alter his appearance only to make him taller, leave the rest as it is. But Lorne knows that Lester’s got far too much evil to accomplish in his afterlife before the Devil will even agree to looking at him more than it has to. Just means that Lorne has to keep working on Lester 2.0, make sure he doesn’t revert back to his old self, give him the taste of what he can have so he fights for it. That’s his Lester.

Lester drops his cutlery on the plate with a clatter and Lorne quickly clasps Lester’s left hand again. Smooths the old skin, runs the pads of his fingers over raised veins. He moves his hand up to slowly tilt Lester’s head so he can press a kiss on Lester’s jawline, nibble the skin there while Lester swallows, his eyes darting to the Demons around the table too busy engorging themselves with food to bat an eye at Lorne’s open and completely unabashed display of affection.

Lorne leans into Lester, perched on the smallest inch of his own chair as he palms for as much cold flesh of Lester as he can reach. He nibbles on Lester’s clothed shoulder, flicks a hand underneath Lester’s open collar and skims his fingers along a solid collarbone. He watches Lester’s mouth drop, his eyes still startled, but his lips wet and quivering and when he goes to kiss Lester, the man reels away shaking his head.

“Aw heck, I can’t! Malvo, I’m done. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Lorne lowers his eyelids for a moment, wary, “Okay.”

And then a moment later and their surroundings fizzle and wobble out like a fading mirage and the dark red neon of the restaurant morphs into a warm yellow, a roaring fire place with flames boasting the length of the hellfire pits, bursting up into the chimney and warming the heavens from beneath. A large fur rug lies before the fire. Lorne immediately drapes himself down on the fur and pats the fur in front of his chest, beckoning Lester to join.

Lester shuffles out of his shoes, drops to his knees and he has the fucking audacity to _apologise_.

“I didn’t think it was going to be like that, I thought that it was going to be fun,” Lester says exasperated.

Lorne plays with the sleeve of Lester’s dress shirt, bunches the cotton together and lets the material loose and fold out naturally.

“Are you kidding? I had fun.”

Lester furrows his brow, lips woven in disbelief, “Did you now?”

Lorne flicks his forefinger beneath the cuff and swirls it around to meet at the underneath of Lester’s wrist, slides his forefinger and thumb over Lester’s, soft.

“I liked the part where I got to show you off.”

“No, no that was… cruel, Malvo. Cruel.”

Lorne lifts an eyebrow, “Cruel? I thought I was being nice.”

“You’re never nice Malvo. The fact that you were like that… in front of the demons… I’ve never… I’ve never seen you like that, you’re never-“ Lester stops to cough out a laugh, “One of them actually called you _sweet_!”

Lester smirks and Lorne catches the man’s eyes when Lester casts them down. The smile quickly fades and that classic frown returns.

“You want me to be nice, don’t you?”

Lester’s lips go tight, “Well it was different, behaviour, you know. I, uh, I didn’t expect it. I mean, I understand now that it was all for show. But uh, well, it was uh, nice you know.”

Lester blinks rapidly.

Lorne stares blankly.

“Er,” Lester stammers, “Should uh, should we uh get on with it then?”

Lester then gets to his feet and starts walking toward the fire, his hands outstretched like he’s about to tackle the quarterback.

“What do you want me to do? Should I just uh, get in?”

Lester shuffles toward the flames until he hears Lorne clear his throat.

“Lester, come here.”

Lorne pats the fur rug again, rubs the area invitingly and Lester cranes his neck to look at the spot, moving his head on his neck like an owl and finally his whole body moves with his head as he turns to follow Lorne’s very simple instruction.

“That’s it, lie down,” Lorne encourages.

Lester stiffly drapes himself over the rug beside Lorne, tries to lie on his side like Lorne but the pull of the frown in his face makes him lie on his stomach, his eyes drawn to the thick fibres of the rug. Lorne tousles Lester’s gelled hair, flicks a thumb around Lester’s ear and drags the thumbnail coarsely over Lester’s shaved jawline, meets at Lester’s lips and draws his thumb inside Lester’s mouth. He edges closer to Lester, cuts the steaming cold air between them so he can access Lester’s mouth with more ease. He slides his thumb underneath the top row of Lester’s perfect teeth, bumps over the back of his gums where the wet skin has healed around molars and pulls his thumb down beneath Lester’s tongue. Swirls the finger around the lump of muscle, over the top, and that’s when Lester starts to suck on him.

“Lester, I want you to know how different things could have been if you had helped me in the elevator instead of running away,” Lorne tells Lester as he starts to thrust his thumb through the crevasse made by Lester’s tongue.

“If you had just helped me clean up that mess that _you_ made,” Lorne says, watching the frown deepen, “I could have helped you get out of the bigger mess.”

Lester shakes his head slightly and mumbles around Lorne’s thumb, “I don’t believe you.”

Lorne looks indignant, “I would have helped you run. I would have run with you, shown you a whole other side of myself. I would have shown you the world, Lester Nygaard, I would have shown you my world and it would be yours. We wouldn’t have to run for long, there would be time to fuck in hotels and hostels and then we’d be fucking in little houses in forests until no one knew our names and we could emerge as the sodomites we are and fuck in the daylight like sweet angels. I –“

Lester spits out Lorne’s finger and in seconds he’s smashing his lips against Lorne’s, forcing the guy to swallows his words. Lorne’s stiff at first, surprised at Lester’s bravery. He always is. After all this time, he can never pinpoint the moment when Lester’s going to take what he wants and maybe Lorne’s a fool for being surprised but he loves Lester for it, for having the guts.

Lester breaks from the kiss, his mouth bloody and warm and he tells Lorne, “You talk too much.”

Lorne grins at Lester, the warm fire behind the man licks heat over his freezing cold body. There’s a flash in Lester’s eyes, a glint from the fire in his heart and Lester pounces on Lorne again, smashing their lips together as hungry as the demons’. But Lorne forces Lester to slow down. Teases him that way. Lester wants gentle tenderness? Well he’s going to get it.

First he pushes Lester on his back, straddles his waist just too far from Lester’s dick to touch Lorne’s ass. He grins down at Lester. Lester glares back. Lorne brushes his damp thumb across Lester’s blue lips, then drags it down his chin and underneath, carefully tracing down his neck. He peels away the collar, gently follows the line of buttons and pops them out, one by one. Lester swallows, expecting a rush or feeling it, either way, his eyes are entranced by Lorne’s working fingers.

Lorne gets to the last button in Lester’s shirt and peels it off his skin, splays it out and nods for Lester to shrug out of his sleeves.

“What are you going to do?” Lester asks him as he pushes his shirt underneath his head for support.

Lorne dances his fingers down Lester’s bare chest, “What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck me,” Lester replies boldly.

Lorne traipses his fingers over the light hair around Lester’s abdomen, hooks his thumb beneath the waistband of Lester’s suit pants.

“Oh, there’s going to be some of that, no doubt.”

Lester nods and he tries to shuffle his hips closer to Lorne’s but Lorne will have none of it. He nudges Lester’s side with his knee and gets the man to roll onto his stomach once again, straddles the back of Lester’s hips and drops down to kiss Lester’s neck. He holds Lester’s chin in one palm, his fingers flush against Lester’s neck heaving with breathy want and Lorne kisses down Lester’s spine. Lorne’s free hand curls around Lester’s body and plays with Lester’s already hard nipple, and Lorne swears he can tell the difference between Lester being stiff merely because he froze to death and being stiff because he’s turned on by Lorne’s fidgeting, and in this case, the kind of responses he’s getting from Lester’s body proves it’s the latter.

Lester moans and drops his head on the fur, prompting Lorne’s hand to slide up and over Lester’s neck, to his shoulder and he gently massages the tense muscles there. Another moan rumbles through Lester’s body, the vibration rocking through his spine, makes the steam shudder off him in jagged waves. Lorne bites his tongue, holds himself back from pulling Lester up by the waist and laying into him, he’s got to have his fun first. He brings both hands down Lester’s back, massaging slowly in spiralling circles, the movement combined with wet kisses.

He gets to the waistband of Lester’s pants and leaves his hands to pick and push away the clothing while he cranes up to kiss Lester, on the side of his ribcage, on his shoulder, on his icy lips again. When Lester’s clothes have been discarded, he pulls blood red lips down Lester’s skin, lifts the man’s small body on his back, kisses down the curve of the ribcage to his abdomen, to the trail of hair leading down to Lester’s erect cock.

Lester gasps, “The blood…”

Lorne glances up at Lester with half lidded eyes and gives Lester a clean, bloodless smile, “What blood?”

Lester hangs his head, “Thank you.”

Lorne licks his teeth free of the endless seeping blood he’d worn as his death marker, “See, I can be nice.”

He smears the red staining Lester’s body with his palms as he settles himself in between Lester’s legs, grasps the base of Lester’s cock and laps at the slit just briefly. Lester’s breath hitches and he sits up immediately to drive one hand into Lorne’s hair, the other down Lorne’s back. Normally he wouldn’t let Lester touch him this way. Normally Lorne would push back on Lester’s stomach, hold him down with one knee and hold Lester’s arms together by the wrists, and he would fuck Lester hard and endless, make them both come and become hard and come again until the Devil wills the souls of scum to be reset and Lorne throws his power over Lester, protects him from deletion.

Tonight is going to be endless but in a way he hasn’t tried with Lester yet. The anticipation itself is making Lorne harder than the block of ice Lester was down in the lake of the glacier but this is a time of giving, giving what Lester wants.

Lorne drops his lips around Lester’s cock, the heat of his mouth giving new life to Lester’s length, this impossible frozen hot muscle, like magma in the bottom of the blackest ocean. He sinks Lester’s cock in his mouth, hits the head against the back of his throat and he chokes, he inwardly punches himself for choking like an amateur and Lester’s heaving above him, fingers clawing at Lorne’s scalp and raking up his back and Lorne’s hands are one on the ground to keep him sturdy and one on Lester’s base to keep that dick straight. He pulls off slightly, sucks with his cheeks, catches the flicker of a muscle spasm over Lester’s abdomen. He sinks in again, gets Lester’s dick to scrape underneath his teeth, bounce off the side of his jaw and down his throat again. Lorne plays with the skin between Lester’s dick and balls, sensitive stuff there even when it’s cold, and he can feel the slight rocking in Lester’s hip start up. Rolling Lester’s hard little dick into his mouth, and Lorne wants so badly to reverse the situation, rile off into Lester’s dirty mouth and tell him how sick he is, how dirty he is and what a slut he is for wanting Lorne’s dick between his lips. But he doesn’t, he’s got a game to play and the game’s not going to work if Lester comes now, either, so those bucking hips, those tell-tale signs are what gets Lorne to pull his lips off Lester with a pop.

He rises to kiss Lester on the neck and Lester’s back unfolds with him and he pleads, “Please,” but Lorne promises he’s going to give Lester what he wants, he’s going to show Lester what he could have had and what he always wanted.

Lester’s lustful hands go toward his dick and Lorne swats them away, earning a disgruntled moan from Lester. He undresses himself now, kissing Lester, keeping hands away from Lester’s dick and holding Lester’s legs apart with one of his legs to prevent grinding, and he can’t stop smiling at the way Lester’s body is so tender and raw. Every touch he makes over Lester, a quick tug at his nipple, a tickle across his abdomen, an ‘accidental’ bump of an elbow on Lester’s dick has him leaning toward the touch, mewling with his lips in want. Lester paws at Lorne’s waist, tries to hook one leg over for purchase but Lorne grabs Lester’s leg and plants it knee down, twisting and twisting poor Lester, back to front the whole night, this time on his knees and he leaves Lester to rock slightly back and forth, his ass flexing, pleading for the next step.

Lorne asks for lube and the divine evil delivers. He hovers around Lester, licks his lips at the way Lester leans toward his heat as Lorne lathers the lube across his erect cock. He catches Lester’s hand sneak towards his cock and Lorne swats the hand away again.

“That’s cheating, Lester,” Lorne warns him.

Lester groans and buries his hands beneath his head against the fur, “Since when were you about playing by the rules?”

Lorne grins. He grabs Lester’s hips now and positions himself behind the man. He spreads Lester’s ass cheeks and lets his dick rest in the space there, then slowly rocks his swollen dick against the sensitive skin, rolling his length long ways against Lester’s hole, then down against his balls and meeting cock against hard cock. Lorne can feel Lester’s ass cheeks clenching under his hold as Lorne continues the painfully slow rutting. He pulls back now, drags the tip of his lubricated dick back up to Lester’s asshole and prods the tip there. At the touch, Lester raises his ass and tries to push himself against Lorne’s dick but to no avail. Lorne follows Lester’s movement, a mirror image, and the closer Lester tries to wriggle his little ass, the further Lorne pulls back, centimetres apart, just heat and precum and Lorne’s sweet torture.

Lester bites the rug and Lorne can hear his muffled name, a throaty, pleading moan.

Lorne braces himself, runs through the plan quickly like a gun’s pointed at his temple. He prods the tip of his dick at Lester’s hole and a second later, thrusts his length inside the man. Lester lets out a guttural yelp as Lorne’s lathered dick slides down Lester’s tunnel. Lorne fills him completely, shuddering himself, and he pulls out not a moment too soon. Pulls out all the way, too, until his the tip of his dick meets an alternative heat, that of the warm fire beside them.

“Aw heck! Malvo!” Lester cries, beating a fist on the rug.

Lorne only laughs, but Lester’s crafty and Lorne can see a hand snapping to his dick and there’s nothing he can do but command the devil to tie down Lester’s hands to the ground, secure them, with his knees apart too because he can’t have Lester sneaking around to get himself off before he’s meant to. Lester snarls at the sudden restraints. They’re painless, invisible, too, but Lester’s not going to be able to move without Lorne’s permission now.

Lorne grabs Lester’s dick now, gives him a couple of playful tugs, then rounds to Lester’s ass again. He positions himself, tip resting in the gaping hole left by Lorne’s previous thrust. Briefly he views the man beneath him. On all fours, back arched, head hung and lungs panting, his legs shivering in want and hole puckering, waiting in longing and need and lust. Lorne can’t help it, his dick twitches, bumping the upper side of Lester’s hole and a moan escapes his mouth.

Lester lets out a breath, “Malvo, _please_.”

Lorne loves how Lester calls him Malvo. It’s the way his Minnesotan accent rolls around the word. Mal-vo, it’s purely pornographic the way Lester says it and that, combined with Lester mewling and pleading with him, he sinks his dick once more inside the hot cold, tight tunnel. Lorne hits Lester’s sweet spot, causing the man to vibrate out a moan and Lorne’s eyes roll back in his head for a moment, and not a moment too soon he rolls straight back out of Lester, pulls his shaft out at an angle that’s going to leave Lester wonky tomorrow.

Lester cries out in pain and Lorne can hear the tears now too, the tears he never saw Lester cry for anyone except himself, not even Lester’s wives. He heaves, rests his throbbing dick along Lester’s hole, and he leans forward, rocking a bit, fiddling with Lester’s nipples and letting the dampness rise from Lester’s skin.

It’s meant to be a question but Lorne’s spending too much strength on keeping himself in control to both putting emotion in his voice.

“You want this.”

Lester nods furiously, his shoulders shaking, “I want this.”

Lorne grinds his dick against Lester’s ass, and by the Devil he’s not even making any sense anymore, “Tell me you want.”

Lester pushes back on Lorne’s cock, bucking, needy, steaming and angry and horny, “Yes.”

But Lorne doesn’t register the answer. He holds his dick down and pushes into Lester’s tight hole. Slow, still, as slow as he can manage with Lester’s asshole clenching around his dick. He savours every inch of the channel clenching around his length, the way it stretches around the shape of his tip, the way it tightens after that lump has passed, the way the sensitive skin sucks tighter and tighter around his shaft. He slips a finger between too just to feel it, feel the redness in the stretching muscle and the way his own cock throbs from the pace. His forefinger goes in as far as it’s going to be able to go so he drags his finger up and out, pushes the last few inches of his cock down deep into this fucker. Rings his fingers around the base of his cock now, his balls hanging low, slapping against Lester as the other man wriggles for movement.

Lorne sighs for a moment, wants to see Lester’s face, and so he rises half out, hears Lester voice his frustration in profanities the devil would approve of. And he twists the guy around, lifts Lester’s leg over his head and feels the underside of Lester’s hole turn into the upside. He cuts away Lester’s anger by relentlessly thrusting into the man now, punching his hard cock into Lester so hard he’s bound to hit the sweet spot whether he was aiming for it or not. Lester lets out a strangled cry, clawing at Lorne’s shoulders and hands around Lester’s waist and pawing at the rug and Lorne watches the way his face crumples with each pull out and tightens with each push.

He bites his lips until they bleed without care, fucks Lester as thoroughly as he has, the most he ever has. Pulls out, all the way, his dick popping at the entrance, then a momentary bump, a fumble until he slams right back down again. A repetition of let loose and too tight and every time his dick isn’t touching anything of Lester but the steam roiling off his cold body, Lorne’s vision rocks between the hazy warmth of the luxurious cabin fire and the actual fires of hell around them.

And then he can’t hold himself back anymore, much to Lester’s relief. He thrusts into Lester and pulls back, but not all the way, the underneath of the curve of his tip only just catching a breath of fresh air, then he pushes down and back, and down, and he can see now that Lester’s dick is steady with heavy lust now, steady enough that if Lorne keeps going like this they’re going to make a mess. And look, he tried, didn’t he? He always tried to be good but the fun in being bad always kept him from Christ. He lays into Lester hard and raw and there’s something about this way that makes him feel breathless, rather than fucking and coming and keep on fucking. This way makes him feel like the world is ending, again, around him, like having that tight heat ensconcing his dick, feeding the blood into a bullet and that bursting is coming, the prick of a pin against the skin of a balloon, the bend of the shape, you can hear the pop already.

Lester grabs onto his hand and paws it on Lester’s dick and yeah he can take a cue card when he gets it. He pumps Lester, blindly, fires burning out his eyeballs as he can’t take the pressure, can’t wait for the balloon to pop anymore because for all he knows it’s gonna happen any second anyway. He feels a wave ripple through him from his core and out and he comes harder, the hardest he ever has in this eternal hell. He bucks through the storm, stroking Lester until his hand goes limp and he can’t hold himself up anymore.

And then Lester, bless his soul, rolls Lorne over on his back and straddles him, dick still wedged deep in Lester’s hole flaccid and dripping but as willing as ever. And Lester rides him out, the last of Lorne’s seed bursting out in pathetic shots but Lorne couldn’t give a flying fuck when Lester, the fallen angel that he is, is riding him still and fucking the shit out of his hand until Lester’s coming all over Lorne’s stomach. Lorne’s neck strains to keep holding his head up and he grins as Lester slumps onto his chest, slips down and falls on the rug beside Lorne. His dick slides out, covered in a thousand years’ worth of cum.

They heave against each other, Lorne spooning Lester in his side, coiling his fingers across Lester’s clammy skin, water droplets chasing the shapes Lorne leaves in the flesh.

“Any-“ Lester begins but has to clear his dry throat before continuing, “Any longer next to this fire and I’m going to rot.”

Lorne hugs Lester close, “I won’t let that happen.”

Lester leans into the hug, drapes one hand over behind him, finds Lorne’s hip and traces his hand down Lorne’s thigh.

“Your leg, Malvo…” Lester starts, “It’s healed?”

Lorne hooks his healthy leg around Lester’s and secures him in the hug, “You only notice now?”

Lester’s catching his breath, slowly coming back to reality, “It’s uh… I thought you kept it like that because you hate me.”

“I do hate you, most days.”

Lester tenses, “Then why didn’t you let those demons eat me? Those things you said at the restaurant… it’s clear what you really think of me.”

Lorne sighs, “Lester, the only thing I should really hate about you is that you still can’t believe how much I truly treasure you.”

Lester’s shoulders rise and he huffs out a grunt. He rolls over, looks Lorne in the eye. Glares at him. Lorne smiles back as warmly as he can, he’s still pretty worn out, but it seems to have a relaxing effect on Lester. A crooked smile breaks across Lester’s face, warming him, and he presses a light kiss on Lorne’s forehead.

“I take it back, you are fairly sweet when you want to be,” he tells Lorne with a sheepish smile.

“Only for you.”

 


End file.
